


Look at Me

by James_writes_for_you



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Body Worship, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Daddy Kink, Daddy!Steve Rogers, Kink Discovery, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marvel Universe, Older Man/Younger Man, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Top Steve Rogers, daddy Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-07 16:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12844650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/James_writes_for_you/pseuds/James_writes_for_you
Summary: After being medically discharged from the U.S. Army, millennial Bucky Barnes decides to start a new life in New York City.  He is in undergrad at NYU, has a new job at a coffee shop that he loves (tolerates), and has a place with his best friend (and sugar mama) Natasha.  After all that's happened, things finally seem to be leveling out.  That is, until a night of responsible (sloppy) adult (drunken) adventures brings Steve Rogers into his life.





	1. Enter One Steve Rogers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets drunk. Bucky does things he can't remember. Bucky is hungover. Bucky meets Steve.

I.

Bucky woke up to a shrill beeping that shot straight through his skill. He attempted to rise to turn off (and possibly destroy) the alarm he cleverly placed on the bureau across the room- an attempt to encourage him to get up when it went off instead of hitting snooze a million times. As he lifted himself, Bucky felt a distinct weight on his back and the events of the night prior came rushing forth- painfully and in broken snippets: 

_“Bucky, you know I am going destroy you, right?” Nat said, taking a sip from the mug of beer and replacing it with some vodka._

_“As if! I am the king of Bear Paw! I will never yield!”_

__

_Bucky staggered onto the dance floor, dragging Nat behind him._

_“Dance with meeee.” Bucky whined._

_“Bucky, you’re drunk. Just admit you lost and let’s go home.”_

_“NEVER!” Bucky proceeded to run into the crowd, throwing off his jacket, button up, and tank top as he began to sway(ish) to the music blaring overhead, likely to the great annoyance of the people around him. Definitely to the frustration of Natasha who would have to spend the next hour searching for him._

__

_Bucky pressed up against a tall solid man, standing on his toes to whisper in the stranger’s ear as Bucky attempted to grind against him._

__

_Nat gripped Bucky from under his arms, pulling him away from the warmth. Why would she do that?_

_“Hey, lover boy. We’re going to go home now, ok?.. I’m sorry.” Why was she sorry?_

__

“Nat. Nat gerroff me!” Bucky gave another shove and Natasha Romanoff, his best friend since high school, rolled off to the side and plopped back onto the bed without little more than a stuttering snore. Bucky shuffled out from under the covers, realizing he was still fully dressed in what remained of his clothes from the night before- a black tank-top and some worn out jeans- and flicked off the alarm. 

Bucky reeked of sweat and booze. His head was throbbing relentlessly, even absent the screeching of his alarm. He ambled into the tiny kitchenette of the overpriced studio apartment he and Nat shared in Brooklyn, opened the cabinet over the microwave, and grabbed a bottle of aspirin. After downing two and chugging a glass of water, Bucky made his way to the bathroom to shower away whatever the hell happened last night and hopefully reveal some semblance of a respectable human he could present at work. 

Work, at the moment, was a trendy coffee shop in Greenwich Village. It was fucking far from his place, but close to NYU where he was going to school. It wasn’t the best job, but it helped pay the bills. Nat was the real breadwinner. She taught ballet, tap, and jazz and performed when she could. It wasn’t always consistent, but for the past two years they had never missed rent. Couldn’t complain about that.

Bucky pulled on a red v-neck and black jeans, tied up his shoulder length hair in a bun, and grabbed his apron for work. “Headed out, sleeping beauty,” he said as he nudged Nat in the side. Her only response was to flip him the bird and roll over. It was Sunday and, unlike him, she had the day off. Bucky was just glad he didn’t have class tonight, too.

__

“You look like shit,” are the first words Bucky hears when he walks into the staff room(/storage closet) of the coffee shop to clock in. Darcy, his loving and supportive work spouse, as usual had gentle words of condolence and understanding. 

“I went out with Nat last night. It was her birthday… I kicked her ass at Bear Paw.” Bucky punched in his employee code and turned to Darcy.

“So you got obliterated. Chance-y on a work night for an old man like you.”

“Fuck off.” 

“I love you,” Darcy lilted as Bucky tied off his apron and walked out to the front counter to man the cash register.

Bucky and Darcy, as well as being coworkers, were both in the undergraduate Communications program at NYU. Unlike Darcy, who went straight into college from high school- Bucky had taken a bit of a detour via Iraq with the U.S. Army. Initially driven by service and patriotic duty, Bucky slowly became disillusioned after seeing so many of his friends get hurt. Killed. He was medically discharged after an IED blew up near him, leaving him with a traumatic brain injury and nerve damage in his left arm. So, at 23, he decided to use his GI benefits to go to school and get a fresh start. Darcy was the first person he met in his cohort and, despite her ribbing, had been an amazing friend throughout the years. Now, two years later, they were approaching the fall of their junior year. 

When Bucky got up front, he realized why Darcy had been sitting in the staff room. It was 9 AM, and yet there was only one customer seated by the window. The espresso machine also looked clean, which meant there hadn’t been much of a rush. Bucky thanked the universe for sparing him. He didn’t think he could have handled walking straight into a morning rush of hurried businessmen and hipsters who were way too specific about their orders (I said French vanilla.. not vanilla). 

The next hour was also blissfully slow, with only a few customers wandering in now and again in between Bucky and Darcy’s playful trash talk. Around lunch, things began to pick up. Bucky and Darcy began tag teaming who made cold and hot drinks- each taking orders as they were available. As Bucky was wrapping up making two blended drinks around the corner from the register, the grinding of the ice resonating in his still throbbing skull, he heard a deep deliciously masculine voice say his name.

“Hey, umm… Does Bucky work here?”

“Who’s asking?” Darcy replied, ever the mother hen.

“Oh, uh, Steve. Steve Rogers. I… met Bucky last night. I, um.. have some things to return to him.”

“Ooooh. Alright then. Hey Bucky,” Darcy sing-songed, “Your friend Steve is here for you.”

Bucky peaked around the corner, and caught sight of this Steve person. God was he gorgeous. Tall, broad (so broad), with clean-cut side-parted blond hair, and a simple blue and white checked button-up that brought out his deep ocean blue eyes... and khakis. Hello, daddy. 

Steve must have felt Bucky’s gaze (stare), because he looked over in Bucky’s direction and their eyes met- Steve’s mouth quirking up in a charming lop-sided smile shifting his weight onto one leg as he lite up with recognition. Bucky felt himself flush and hoped it wasn’t noticeable from a distance. How could his mind possibly black-out meeting this Adonis of a man? Vodka be damned.  
Bucky took a breath, dropped off the two drinks on the surfboard, and walked toward Steve and Darcy.

“Hey, Darce. Can I have five?”

“Sure thing.” Darcy said with sarcastic sweetness and a shit-eating grin. She was going to be all over his ass about this later. 

“Thanks.” Bucky flicked his eyes up to Steve and gestured to a two-seater closest to the counter. Both he and Steve wordlessly walked that direction. Once they sat across from each other Steve pushed a bag his way.

“I manage to find your shirt and jacket at the club last night. You, uh, left them behind.” Steve flushed at the close of his sentence, which looked perfectly adorable in Bucky’s opinion.

“I’m so sorry, Steve- was it?” As if Bucky didn’t know. Steve nodded. “But I really don’t remember much from last night.” Bucky felt like such a wreck. “Could you maybe fill me in a bit on how we met and how you knew where to find me? Do you work at the club?”

“No. Shoot. This must seem kind of weird. Um… I was dragged out last night by a friend. I was sitting around waiting for him to come off the dance floor and you walked over and…” Steve paused, blush deepening. Bucky felt the anxiety rising in him. He was not the most graceful drunk and was notoriously mouthy. What had he done? 

Steve’s eyes flicked away briefly “…you asked me to dance and when we got out there you got kinda sick. I took you to the bathroom to clean you up and then had you sit with me until I could figure out how to get you home safely. Your friend found us and wanted to take you home, but you were really upset you couldn’t find your jacket, so I promised I would find it and bring it to you and she let me know where you worked. So… here I am.”

Bucky was mortified. Here was this sweet, thoughtful, gorgeous man and he had to go and meet him while being a messy drunk. He knew Steve was sparing him the embarrassing details of their interaction, bless him, but the uncertainty only made Bucky feel more anxious. 

“God, well… this is embarrassing. I’m so sorry I’ve cause you all this trouble. You really didn’t need to bring this stuff back to me.” Bucky looked up at Steve who was smiling at him so candidly it made Bucky ache in a number of ways.

“Nah. It wasn’t a problem. It wasn’t hard to find and this shop is close to home anyway. Plus, I promised.” And wasn’t that cute.

Bucky felt fucking butterflies in his stomach. The hell was that about? He cleared his throat and made to get up, “Well the least I can do is treat you to some coffee for your trouble. What would you like?”

“Oh! Um… maybe just a cappuccino?”

“Coming right up!”

Bucky rounded the counter, Darcy side-eyeing him as he made Steve’s cappuccino and tried to devise a smooth game-plan for seeing him again.

“You’ll have to tell me how you liked it,” said Bucky, handing Steve the shop’s bright yellow to-go cup.

“Best cappuccino I’ve ever had,” Steve said without having taken a sip- a different sort of glimmer in his pretty blue eyes. “I think I’ll have to come back more often.”

“Y-yeah.” Was all that Bucky managed to verbalize. So much for being smooth.

“See you later, Buck.” Steve called over his shoulder as he walked out.

As soon as the door closed behind him Darcy looked over and snarked, “Apparently you had a much better night than you let on.”

Bucky pointedly ignored her while flipping her off under the counter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not play Bear Paw. It's an awful idea.
> 
> \----
> 
> First posted fic. Your feedback is thoroughly welcome. 
> 
> ____
> 
> Goal is to post a chapter a week. Keep an eye out.


	2. The Various Versions of One Bucky Barnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve recounts his first encounter with Bucky in light of their second encounter.

II.

As soon as the door thumped shut behind him, Steve let out a breath. A slight blush colored his nose and cheeks. Bucky seemed to have a way of doing that to him. Steve had only intended to come to return Bucky’s clothes, as promised. He hadn’t expected to feel such a strong thrill interacting with him. Rendering him speechless.  
In fact, it was odd seeing Bucky at work. Sober. He was far more timid than he had been the night before, though that wasn’t difficult to achieve. Steve had chosen to spare Bucky the embarrassment of their full encounter, but the polite and slightly nervous Bucky he met today was a vast departure from the bold and bratty Bucky he had met last night.

//

Steve sat on the barstool across from his best friend Sam. He had insisted they go out tonight in celebration of Steve getting hired on at the Metropolitan Museum of Art as a Lead Conservator. Really, Steve felt Sam just got enjoyment out of watching him squirm. 

Steve didn’t go to clubs much. He wasn’t shy, but it wasn’t his style. The interactions in clubs always seemed so intimate and impersonal at the same time. Plus, Steve was 38 years old. He felt more than a bit uncomfortable grinding up against some twenty-something student laced with alcohol and naivety. 

“Come on man!” Sam laughed, “Loosen up a bit! We’re here to have fun. You look like your cat just died.”

Steve chuckled, “You know this isn’t my thing, Sam.”

“Steve, if it wasn’t for me you would live the life of some old shut-in whose only friends were the artwork he stares at all day. Though some of those folks in the paintings are fine as hell, you need some real human interaction. So, take a deep breath, grab a drink, and come dance, dammit!”

“You go ahead and dance. Maybe I’ll come out after that drink.”

Sam wiggled his eyebrows at Steve as he walked out to the dance floor, “Don’t think you’re off the hook!”

“Of course not,” Steve mumbled, rolling his eyes and smiling good-naturedly at his friend’s insistence.

Not five minutes after Sam disappeared into the crowd, a gorgeous man walked, well stumbled, out of said crowd. Steve noticed him immediately. He was tall, with messily swept back brown hair and a strong, thick body that was on full display, as he was shirtless. The stranger’s eyes scanned around a bit before meeting Steve’s gaze. He grinned ferally and bee-lined toward Steve. He had barely a moment to realize what was happening before the handsome stranger was firmly in his personal space, his body planted between Steve’s legs. Steve tensed, smelling the strong odor of alcohol on the man’s breath. 

He promptly leaned into to Steve’s ear and purred, “Hey, daddy. You look like you could use some fun. Wanna take me home and let me show you what a good boy I can be? Bet you’d have a lot of fun with me on my knees.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot to his hairline as his face went red. He put a firm hand on the man’s chest and pushed to create some room between them. He couldn’t think straight with him so close, saying things like that with his breath on Steve’s neck.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Steve stated, voice a little deeper and more breathless than he had intended.

“Come _ooon_ ,” the other man whined, “ Why is everyone being such a killjoy tonight!?”

Steve huffed out a laugh and shook his head. This was the exact combination of young, drunk, and naïve that kept Steve out of places like this.

“How about a dance? Would you like to dance?”

The man nodded enthusiastically, grabbed Steve’s hand, and pulled him straight out of his seat and onto the dancefloor. He then proceeded to move in close and grind his body against Steve. Steve’s face colored further. They were by no means an unusual sight on the dance floor, but that didn’t make him feel any less awkward. The man turned to face Steve and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“What’s your name?” Steve managed to get out. He was having a difficult time concentrating with the man’s bare chest pressed against him.

The man smirked and pressed his lips against Steve’s jaw. “Bucky. Bucky Barnes,” he whispered.

“I-it’s nice to meet you, Bucky.” Steve sputtered out, Bucky’s lips trailing down his neck. “I’m Steve.”

“Mmmhmmm.” Bucky hummed.

Then, abruptly, Steve felt Bucky’s body freeze. He took a step back to check on him just in time for Bucky to bend over and vomit on his shoes. Steve took it in stride and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, leading him off the dance floor and apologizing as they navigated to the bathroom. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Steve said as he leaned Bucky against the wall by the sink, all the drunken swagger gone. 

“Do you feel like you’re gonna throw up again?” Steve asked. Bucky just shook his head no.

“Ok, well, I’m going to help clean you up - and wash off my shoes - and then we’ll get you home, ok?”

Bucky perked up a bit and nodded. Steve grabbed a paper towel and wetted it, wiping around Bucky’s mouth and face. He encouraged Bucky to rinse his mouth out, did his best to clean off his shoes, and then led Bucky to the benches outside the bathroom along the wall. Steve sat down beside him. Bucky immediately leaned over and buried his face in Steve’s lap, strands of hair falling into his face. Steve impulsively brushed the hair out of the man’s face, blushing when he realized what he was doing. 

“Bucky, did you come with anyone tonight? Do you have someone to take you home?”

Bucky nodded and whispered something softly.

“I’m sorry, Buck, I didn’t catch that.”

“I like that.” 

“Like what?”

“I like when you call me Buck.”

Steve flushed, “Umm, ok. Well, Buck, is there someone who can take you home?”

“You can take me home.”

Steve rolled his eyes. This guy was such a brat, “I meant, did you come with a friend who could take you home.”

“It’s Nat’s birthday...” Bucky trailed off. He was falling asleep.

Steve started to gently shake Bucky awake when a slender red-headed woman called out, “Goddamit! There you are, Bucky. I swear I’m never going out with you again!”

Bucky groaned and wrapped his arms around his head, “Go away, Nat. You’re too loud.”

“I’m too loud!! Are you kidding me!? Come on, Bucky. Leave this man alone and let’s go home.” Nat turned her gaze to Steve, looking at him levelly. “I’m sorry about this,” She stated neutrally. Steve got the impression she was wary of him.

“Oh! No problem. Bucky and I were, uh, dancing and he got sick, so I cleaned him up… I was just trying to figure out how to get him home.”

“Gotcha.” She nodded at him, accepting his answer and turned her attention back to Bucky. “You hear that, Bucky? Your new friend here thinks you should head home, too.”

Bucky peered out from under his arms at Nat and whined, “I _caaan’t_ go home yet! Where are my shirts? My jacket?”

Nat’s voice raised with every word, “Here’s your damn tank top! It’s the only thing I could find!” She chucked the dark garmet at Bucky, “You threw the rest off in the crowd when you ran off! Someone probably stole them!”

“WHAT!?” Bucky shot up off Steve’s lap with renewed vigor. “But, _Naaaat_! They’re my favorites!”

Nat looked like she was about to knock Bucky out and drag him away. 

Steve chimed in, “Hey Buck,” Bucky keened and shifted his body back into Steve’s smiling blearily, “Yeah, Stevie?”

Steve flushed at the nickname. “How about you go home with Nat and I bring your stuff by later?”

Nat narrowed her eyes at Steve and he quickly put his hands up defensively and added “Uuuh, I can drop them with you or at work or something. Would that work?”

Nat nodded, and Bucky responded quietly, “Oook. Thank you, daddy.”

Steve’s eyes shot to Nat fearfully. Thankfully, she just rolled her eyes and hoisted Bucky up with surprising (and terrifying) ease.

“Hey, lover boy. We’re going to go home now, ok?” She took one last look at Steve, “I’m sorry about this. Thanks again for looking out for him. If you find his damn clothes just drop them off at Apex Coffee in Greenwich Village, ok?” 

With that, Nat had turned around and walked off, Bucky in tow, as Sam approached.

“Where the hell have you been, man?”

//

Steve laughed at the memory. He might just have to come back a few more times for the best cappuccino in town. It could be nice to learn more about the various versions of one Bucky Barnes, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter (finally)! Know that this fic will be completed hell or high water, but work, the holidays, and general life-iness may mean an inconsistent posting schedule. Nonetheless, I will see it through and it will be glorious & embarrassing & fluffy & smutty. Oh joy!.


End file.
